Dying Stars - A Drarry AU by Lucius Gerard

Chapter Two - Shards of Shattered Glass

TW: Depictions of physical and emotional abuse. Please read with caution.

☆★☆★☆

Friday, October 11, 1996, 2:49PM
Holloway Grammar School for Boys
London, England

"Mr. Malfoy," Coach Hagrid said kindly, taking a rickety seat next to Draco on the bleachers. Draco sighed, picking at his nails. He knew what was coming, and didn't respond, instead focusing on the clumsy rugby scrimmage taking place before him. Vince made way to pants Greg, who had the ball, but instead fell flat on the ground. He slowly rose, grass stains decorating his red and green striped gym shirt. The two colours looked ugly together, Draco thought. The girls over at Wagner got to wear yellow blouses and navy blue skirts and blazers, and while Draco did not envy the skirts, he envied the choice in colours. The two schools had been founded by married couple Richard Holloway and Julia Wagner back in 1881, and they had apparently chosen the school colours based on their own favourites. Curse Richard Holloway for preferring red and green, complimentary colours be damned (and curse himself for actually paying attention in art class). It can't be Christmas all year.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you listening?" Hagrid said, snapping Draco out of his thoughts.

"What did you say?" Draco asked. Hagrid sighed.

"I asked why you're sitting out of the game," he repeated. "You usually rather enjoy PE. What's changed?"

"Nothing," Draco replied. There was no truth to this statement, and both he and Hagrid knew it. But, thankfully, the teacher didn't press further, instead leaving him alone.

Draco had been called into the headmaster's office a few times to discuss his selective participation, mainly in PE. Headmaster Dumbledore was concerned because he wanted Draco to receive credit for the class, but he still needed to earn it. Each meeting was the same conversation. Dumbledore would ask if everything was alright at home, if Draco needed to speak to head of year, whether Hagrid was doing enough to make each of his students comfortable in his class, so on and so forth. Draco's replies were always the same: Yes, no, yes. It was a game of Two Truths and a Lie, only the headmaster wasn't aware he was playing.

Only a few minutes later, when Hagrid blew his whistle and yelled for the boys to round up the equipment and head inside to get changed, Draco was the first up. He made a beeline for the changing rooms and, as usual, was the first to arrive. He yanked his gym shirt over his head just as the door to the room opened and the other boys started streaming in, chattering, laughing, and shoving each other. Draco turned to get his white dress shirt, leaving his tie on the bench (this was their last period before going home, so what was the point of putting the full uniform together if he was only going to change out of it anyway), and spun around as fast as he could to avoid anyone seeing his back.

Someone saw.

Embarrassed, the new kid's green eyes immediately found the ground, but a mortified Draco could already feel the bubble of humiliation, shame, and anger rising within. And, with his father not present, the only person he could think to direct it at was this poor new student.

"Oi," he said harshly, quickly but neatly buttoning his shirt. "You ought to mind your own business. Didn't your mummy teach you it was rude to stare?"

A flash of pain, confusion, and grief washed over the kid's face, but Draco couldn't find it in himself to care much. He sloppily stuffed his blazer into his book bag and slung it over his shoulder, mindfully concealing a grimace, and allowed his long legs to swiftly carry him out of the change room, sending a scathing look at the other boy as he let the door fling shut behind him. This door had been fixed several years before when the school was renovated (the staff decided it was too old-fashioned and needed to be brought into the twentieth century), and they had installed a mechanism that made it close slowly instead of slamming. More recently, though, it broke, which resulted in the teachers always yelling for the boys to hold the door handle as it closed so it wouldn't crash into the frame and echo down the hallway. No one actually listened, but not for lack of trying on the parts of school staff.